


Dance With Me

by annejumps



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Barebacking, Couch Sex, Exhibitionism, M/M, Masturbation, Strip Tease, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-29
Updated: 2012-10-29
Packaged: 2017-11-17 06:32:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/548638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annejumps/pseuds/annejumps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"They were dancing in their sockfeet in Arthur’s living room, which of course had a wide space on the hardwood floor for dancing. Arthur lived his career. He loved dancing. He did it at work, he did it as a hobby, he did it at home, and he did it as foreplay." A followup to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/535160">Lead and Follow</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dance With Me

**Author's Note:**

> Based on ideas from [Amy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/asunder) and [Adelaide](http://archiveofourown.org/users/allnuthatchforest/pseuds/ladderax). Beta'd by [anatsuno](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anatsuno/pseuds/anatsuno).

Arthur was flush against him, murmuring the music’s count to himself, voice low and purring, just the sound of it making Eames hard -- well, the close contact of Arthur’s body was probably responsible for that as well.

They were dancing in their sockfeet in Arthur’s living room, which of course had a wide space on the hardwood floor for dancing. Arthur lived his career. He loved dancing. He did it at work, he did it as a hobby, he did it at home, and he did it as foreplay.

They had been dating for a few months. In addition to being very charming and intelligent, Arthur was every bit as good in bed as his demeanor indicated. He was slinky, he was flexible, he had stamina. He was creative.

Eames slid his hand down the small of Arthur’s back, and Arthur chuckled softly, reaching for him. “You’re getting handsy.”

“I can’t resist touching you.”

“Is that right.” Arthur drew back, and he had that gleam in his eye that told Eames he was up to something.

Eames leaned in to kiss him. “What’s that supposed to mean, darling?”

“You’ll see.” Arthur stepped back, grinning slyly, turned off the music, and shed his waistcoat (they’d just come back from swing night and were still in their period garb, and had been slow-dancing to cool down -- in theory, at least). Eames reached for him, and Arthur stepped nimbly away, placing the waistcoat over the back of a chair. “Sit,” he told Eames, giving him a light shove until Eames sat on the couch.

Arthur unknotted his tie with those expert long fingers, drew it through his collar, and let it drop onto Eames’ lap. He untucked his dress shirt and started to unbutton it.

“Oh, do let me help, Arthur,” Eames said.

Arthur shook his head, smiling, undid his French cuffs, and peeled off his shirt. He let it fall to the floor.

He unbuckled his belt, and Eames reached for the buckle, pulling on it as Arthur stepped back. It slithered through the loops, and Arthur grabbed it and pointed it at him, frowning theatrically. “Just watch, Eames.” He winked.

Eames sighed, and watched.

Arthur undid his flies, and took his sweet time getting his trousers down his hips and stepping out of them. He peeled off his socks, bending his lovely legs to do so.

“May I speak?” Eames asked.

“Sure,” Arthur replied. He was now standing in just his indecently small boxer-briefs, almost between Eames’ feet. “You just can’t touch me.” He squeezed himself through his briefs, his breath hitching, a small wet spot appearing on the fabric.

“You’re terribly cruel.... What brought this on?”

“Dancing with you. You’re perfect.”

Eames shrugged modestly. “Well, darling, I’ve only been dancing for a little while--”

“It’s not just the dancing.”

“Oh?”

Arthur didn’t elaborate. He took off his briefs -- he shimmied out of them, really -- and wrapped a hand around himself, and Eames sighed and slumped back on the couch.

Arthur stood before him naked and surrounded by his discarded clothes, and started to stroke himself. Eames couldn’t stop staring at his hand. Arthur paused to rub the pad of his thumb over the head of his cock, making himself gasp quietly, and Eames groaned under his breath and had to adjust himself.

Arthur pinched a nipple -- “Oh, that’s not on,” Eames muttered -- and closed his eyes, tilting his head back slightly, his skin starting to get flushed. Beautiful Arthur, knowing exactly what a picture he made.

Eames swallowed hard. “Arthur,” he said, voice low and deceptively steady, “if you’re not going to let me touch you, I suppose I’ll just have to touch myself.”

Arthur’s eyes fluttered open, and he watched, still stroking himself slowly, as Eames unbuckled his belt and took down his flies. He settled back, spreading his thighs, and reached into his boxers to take himself in hand. He looked at Arthur; his eyes were on Eames’ cock, the color rising in his cheeks, until he lifted his gaze to meet Eames’. Eames let his lips part for Arthur’s benefit, arching his back and shifting his hips just a bit.

Arthur’s eyes narrowed, and he stepped closer.

“Ah, ah. Just watch, Arthur,” Eames admonished, grinning, thumb rubbing his foreskin. Arthur huffed in frustration, stroking faster. “If only we could touch each other,” Eames sighed. “I do love your hands, darling. And I love touching you.” He sighed again. “But....”

Arthur put his free hand behind himself and started to finger himself open. He closed his eyes again and bit his lip. “Eames,” he sighed. “All night, while we were out dancing, you were all I could think about.”

“Come here, Arthur, you ridiculous show-off tease,” Eames murmured. “Get the slick and come here.” He squeezed himself, then hastily unbuttoned his shirt, shedding it and shucking his trousers off, boxers following.

“Yeah, I’m the show-off,” Arthur said, staring openly at Eames’ chest and getting the lube from a drawer in the coffee table, still idly stroking himself.

“Well.” Eames shrugged, grinning. He caught the lube as Arthur threw it. “Come here, darling.” He uncapped the bottle, making short work of coating himself. “Very clever of you to put a throw on this couch,” he remarked, as Arthur took the bottle from him, snapped the cap shut, and straddled his lap.

“Machine-washable,” Arthur said, slightly strained as he held Eames’ cock in place and sank down onto it.

He sighed, tilting his head back, taking slow, deep breaths. He was gorgeous, his nostrils flared just slightly, skin flushed, cock hard against his stomach, the dark curls below his navel damp. Eames reached for him with his slick hand and squeezed, and Arthur opened his eyes with a gasp, staring down as he started to slowly, determinedly ride Eames.

“Isn’t it much nicer when there’s touching?” Eames murmured.

“You said it yourself, I’m a tease,” Arthur replied, moving harder now. Unsurprisingly, when Arthur rode, he _rode_. The muscles in his legs were truly incredible.

Arthur spread his fingers on Eames’ thighs and arched his back. He shifted in time with Eames’ strokes of his cock.

“I wouldn’t have you any other way,” Eames replied, putting his free arm around Arthur, pulling him closer to kiss his collarbone. Arthur shuddered, one hand moving to pull distractedly at Eames’ hair.

“I knew you -- couldn’t go long without touching me,” Arthur gasped, and Eames hummed in agreement, hand sliding down Arthur’s back to ghost touches down Arthur’s crack to where they were joined. Arthur gasped again, tightening around him.

“Why should I?” Eames said, nipping at his skin, stroking him faster. Arthur’s fingernails scratched restlessly at his scalp. “And I told you I couldn’t. It was your idea to see if I could.”

Arthur nodded, shuddering, his neck starting to go pink.

“You don’t need to tease me, you know,” Eames continued, starting to get breathless. “I love it, but you don’t have to bait me, I don’t need to be enticed into wanting you.”

Arthur went very still, and then nodded again, and swallowed. He shifted his weight forward, causing Eames to lean back, and he tugged Eames’ head back by his hair to arch him up for a kiss. It was a desperate, slick kiss, and there was something more to it than the fact that Arthur was close to coming. Eames murmured to him through it, mindless, hand squeezing Arthur’s hip, other hand working his cock.

Arthur had to break the kiss when he came, tilting his head back to pant, and Eames kissed his jaw, his neck. “Eames,” he groaned, squirming restlessly, and Eames came too, mouth open and hot on Arthur’s skin.

Arthur’s hand loosened in his hair to stroke it, and Eames leaned back, and licked his fingers clean. He wrapped his arms around Arthur, who leaned into him, gradually relaxing, shivering a little. Eames pressed small kisses to his skin, soaking up the warmth and feel of him, wondering if Arthur was doing the same.

“Let’s go to bed,” Arthur said, voice husky and content.

Eames let Arthur lead him to the bedroom, where after brief ablutions and turning out the light he joined Arthur in his bed, pulled the covers up over them and put an arm over him. Arthur wedged a leg between his and pressed his face to his neck.

Eames had almost fallen asleep when he heard his name in Arthur’s quiet, rough voice. “Love you,” Arthur muttered against his skin, and Eames went still, and kissed his temple. “Love you too, Arthur,” he whispered back, smiling in the dark.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the song "Cheek to Cheek." Thanks to [anatsuno](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anatsuno/), [Amy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/asunder), and Liz for all your help!


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